In a village lived Rahim Chacha. He was around sixty, but his eyes still sparkled with childlike mischief. Every morning he would take his two cows to the field, and in the evening he'd sit under the banyan tree telling stories.
One day his little grandson, eight-year-old Riad, asked:
"Dadu, have you ever seen a ghost?"
Rahim Chacha smiled a little and said,
"Yes, my dear, I have."
"What did it look like?"
"Very beautiful. Long hair, fair face, and those eyes… as if starlight was trapped inside them."
Riad's eyes grew wide.
"Wow! Then the ghost was actually nice!"
Rahim Chacha smiled again. Then slowly he said,
"No, son. It wasn't a ghost. It was your Dadi. She left us the year after we got married. But even now, on many nights when I wake up, it feels like someone is sitting near my feet. In the moonlight her hair glimmers. I keep my eyes closed… not out of fear, just so she stays a little longer."
Riad listened quietly. Then suddenly he asked,
"Dadu, if you die one day, will you come to me too?"
Rahim Chacha placed his hand on his grandson's head and stayed silent for a long time. Then very softly he said,
"I'll always be with you, my boy. Whenever you sit under the banyan tree, whenever you go to graze the cows, or whenever you look at the moon through the window at night… just look for me a little. You may not find me, but I'll be there. Just like your Dadi is still here."
Riad nodded. His eyes had become a bit moist, but he tried to smile.
From that day on, whenever Riad went to the banyan tree, he would sit quietly for a moment. As if he was making a little space for Dadu.
And Rahim Chacha? He would just smile quietly. Because he knew—there's no need to become a ghost. Love stays behind anyway.
The end. ❤️